An Old Story
by Advocata Diaboli
Summary: Just an old story about Legolas, told around the campfire. It's hokey, it's cheesy, and it's cutesy. Chapter two flashes back to the actual events of the campfire story.
1. An Old Story

An Old Story

By AdvocataDiaboli

Disclaimer: Belongs to the Tolkien estate, or to whomever they've given the rights.

This is yet another story I had hanging around on my laptop. This is probably the hokiest and cheesiest thing in existence, but well, whatever. It's hokey. It's cheesy. It's cutesy. And it's awfully melodramatic. Take it as it is.

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"Gandalf, there's something I have been meaning to ask you."

Legolas, seated with the rest of the fellowship around the campfire, seemed rather off as he asked the question. His eyes were stormy, brows furrowed.

"Yes, Legolas?"

"Well, being under Elrond's roof reminded me. Do you know why my father and Master Elrond dislike each other? It has been so my entire life, and never once have I gotten a clear explanation."

"You may find it to be a rather private story. Do you want it told 'round a campfire?"

"I do not mind. We will pass more hardships together than an uncomfortable story. Please, Gandalf, I really do wish to know."

"Very well, Legolas." The gray-bearded man paused, settling his robes and collecting his thoughts. "It happened when you were a mere fifteen years old, barely able to walk without stumbling - cutely I must say, and with much grace - over your own feet."

The fellowship, even Borimir, Gimli and Legolas himself, had to laugh at that. Gandalf's eyes shone with pride and amusement as he continued. "A beautiful young elfling you were, then, Legolas, and Elrond had taken quite a shine to you. You see, you were the first hmm... /royal/ birth in Mirkwood in the millennia after the great war. And you were so young and full of life - a great comfort to elven kind after all that death."

"Only a few centuries after!" Pippen broke in, "How old are you? You couldn't be older than Aragorn here!"

Legolas, Aragorn and Gandalf - wiser in the ways of elves than the others - laughed at Pippin's surprise.

"I am many centuries old, little hobbit. And I am yet young to my fellow elves."

"Do you remember the paintings along the walls of Elrond's story hall? You should - the hobbits must have spent days looking at them." Everyone nodded their assent, for these images were too beautiful to forget. "The one not four feet from the throne is of a young elf, looking only four human years old. His hair shines like honeyed gold, eyes alight, hands outstretched to the painted sun. That-" Gandalf paused for dramatic effect "-is Legolas."

The hobbits gasped in surprise (their usual reaction to Gandalf's wild tales). The images on Elrond's wall were all beautiful - that one especially - and so lifelike that one thought the room was filled with elves. Legolas, however, was most surprised.

"Master Elrond has a painting of me? That's ME? Surely you must be mistaken..."

"Indeed not, I watched him put it there himself. He is quite skillful.

"But back to the story. You'd come visiting with your father - even then, Elrond and Thranduil were not the best of friends, but your father had come to Rivendell to receive a large shipment of diamonds from the dwarf mines nearby. Somehow you managed to wander off from the care of Elrond's sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and got yourself lost. There was still some danger for a young elf in Rivendell then, for as I said the war had not been over for more than a few centuries. We were all frantic, trying to find you - Elrond and his sons most of all.

"Arwen had been off visiting in Lothlorien, thankfully, or she would have been insane with worry. Though, had she been there, I suppose she would have watched a young prince with more care than a pair of teenage hunters..."

The hobbit couldn't help themselves at that; they were astonished. Merry's voice was of complete surprise when he turned to Legolas. "You're a prince? Why doesn't anyone tell us these things? First Aragorn, now Legolas. Are you something else as well, Gandalf?"

Gandalf smiled indulgently, a knowing twinkle in his eye, but did not answer the question.

"Elrond was frantic. He rushed down to Thranduil to tell the King about his missing son. Your father... well, Thranduil has a mind for precious stones and the like, and he informed Elrond, in front of fifty or so other elves, that he would search for young Legolas when he'd finished his inspections."

Legolas tilted his head and nodded, agreeing ruefully with this assessment of his father's character.

"Master Elrond was so angry that he pulled his fist back- " Gandalf mimed the action, nearly elbowing the ranger behind him in the head. Aragorn dodged in time, but unbalanced himself from his seat on a large stone and came close to dropping his pipe in the process. " -and punched him right in the nose. Then he turned in an indignant swirl of robes and went to look for you."

The entire company could not help but laugh at the image of the great elven lord of Rivendell punching another elf out. Merry fell off his perch atop a log.

"He found the little prince later that day in hysterics because he'd gotten lost in the Hall of Records."

Gandalf tugged one of his gray sidelocks, smiling in remembrance. "Legolas wouldn't let go of him for two entire days - clung to his hair for the first five hours after."

Legolas was blushing, halfway between embarrassment and pride.

"Alright," Aragorn finally broke the contemplative silence following the story. "We've best get some sleep. We have a long ways to travel, my friends..."

End

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	2. A Lost Prince

An Old Story

An Old Story  
By AdvocataDiaboli

Disclaimer: Belongs to the Tolkien estate, or to whomever they've given the rights.

Chapter Two follows the events of Gandalf's story. If anything, it's even cheesier than Chapter One. Enjoy!

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"Father! Father, we've lost him! Come quickly! Father!"

Elrond peered over the rail of the balcony next to this throne. His son was down below, jumping up and down and waving his arms in excitement. He raised an eyebrow.

"Who did you loose, Elrohir?"

"The prince! The young prince of Mirkwood. We were watching him, but Elladan went to fetch dinner, and Mithrandir's arrival distracted me from attending to him. I was gone but a minute, and I told him not to leave the room, but he was gone when I returned. Mithrandir brought news of many orcs inhabiting the area around Rivendell recently. I'm very worried about young Legolas – he wandered from the hall next to the library. The hall is in the west wing of the building, close to the forest edge."

"I saw him but once when the party arrived - he is a little slip of an elfling. He could not have gotten very far."

"Aye, father, but quite energetic. He could very well be halfway to Mirkwood by now."

Elrond turned back to the delegates awaiting him before the throne. "Please excuse me, my friends, but there is a matter of great importance to which I must attend. Glorfindel, send out a search party for Prince... Legolas, was it? And give word to the boarder patrols that he may be in or near the woods."

Glorfindel bowed sharply and walked briskly from the room.

Elrond nodded to his visitors before bracing one arm on the rail and leaping over it, off the balcony, somehow managing to keep his long robes from billowing out comically. He landed ten feet down, coming to stand next to his son. "Where is Elladan?"

"He is searching the palace halls we played in earlier. But I worry Legolas may have made his way into the library archives, if not into the forest. I would get lost myself if I searched for him down in all those moldy old stacks of books."

"Then I will go, after I notify the Prince's father. You would do well to search the gardens, especially the trees. He's a Mirkwood elf, and will feel most at home in the trees even as young as he is."

Elrohir grinned in relief - since his father was not angry with him - and ran off towards the gardens. Elrond shook his head in amusement and headed for the treasury to find Legolas's father.

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King Thranduil of Mirkwood was sitting at a table inspecting dwarfish gems when Elrond entered the room. Almost twenty elves sat around him, all craftsmen of great talent and reputation. Five dwarves sat across the table from the elves, watching the inspections with pride.

"Thranduil. I must talk to you. It involves your son, he may be in danger."

"Lord Elrond? I'm certain you have good reason to come barging in like this, but the matter must wait. I will see to my son when I have finished."

The light tone Thranduil took on the matter struck Elrond in precisely the wrong way, and he yanked the visiting king from his chair.

"You'll see to it now! Your son has gone missing. You know the dangers that lay outside the borders of Rivendell, and the dangers even inside of Rivendell for such a young child."

Thranduil smoothed the wrinkles in his tunic.

"He will be fine for a few hours, while I finish inspections. Mirkwood is far more dangerous than Rivendell."

"You will look after your son NOW Thranduil!" the darker elf hissed.

"I will see to him LATER!"

The stubborn, unworried look on Thranduil's face had Elrond grabbing the collar of the king's fine tunic and hauling him forward. Before the other could make even a noise, Elrond growled and drew his fist back, then punched Thranduil square in the face. Uncaring of his completely un-elven behavior, he dropped Thranduil to the ground and snarled in disgust.

Elrond turned in an indignant swirl of expensive robes and left the room, heading for the archives, and leaving several stunned elves (and a few laughing dwarves) in his wake.

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Elrond was furious. He stormed down the hall, muttering to himself in his rage, robes and hair swishing violently.

"See to him later. See to him LATER! After he's finished. What elf would choose dwarfish trinkets over their own son. That greed will be the downfall of Mirkwood."

He reached the entrance to the archives just as the scholars finished putting out the torches for the night. With few windows, the archives needed lighting even to be used during the day. They were almost impossible to access comfortably at night.

Elrond cursed to himself and grabbed a lantern off a nearby shelf. Pulling up his robes, he walked down the steps of the archive halls and into darkness.

"Legolas? Are you down here, young one?"

His shouts echoed through the maze-like halls, dulled by the thousands of books surrounding him. No reply came, so he trudged on.

After a while, it became apparent that Legolas was not there. He turned to go down a hallway that would lead him out of the archive, when harsh breathing caught his attention. He listened closely and heard small sobs and whimpering coming from some distance away.

"Legolas? Legolas, can you tell me where you are?"

Elrond tilted his head back, trying to pinpoint the location of the crying elf. Legolas's whimpers and sobs were growing quieter, and the boy was obviously exhausted. He was probably too tired even to hear Elrond calling him.

But the crying was all Elrond needed. He knew the archives like the back of his hand, and could navigate even by the light of a single lantern. He rushed down the corridors, taking two right turns and a left, and finally found the missing elf. Legolas was sitting on the floor, in a corner, curled up with his arms hugging his legs tight to his chest.

Elrond dropped the lantern, thankful when it did not go out, and swept the elfling into his arms.

Barely three by human standards, small and shivering from fear and cold and face streaked with tears, the elf clung to his savior.

Elrond smiled down at the delicate boy, who was asleep now that the danger was over. Suddenly his mouth bowed into a frown, as he noticed the shivers wracking the slight frame. Healer's and Father's instincts kicked in, and he quickly pulled the wide cloth belt from about his waist, shook it with one hand to unravel it, and wrapped it as a blanket around the young elf.

Legolas's shivers began to die away and he drifted into a healthier sleep. Arms came up to wrap around Elrond's neck and tangle in his dark hair.

Elrond didn't mind the wet face against his neck or the little hands clutching his hair as he made his way out of the archive's halls.

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Elrond drew stares from every citizen of Rivendell as he passed by. His usually neat and orderly robes were wrinkled and loose, and he held an unfamiliar young elf against his chest. The expression of pure fatherly adoration on Elrond's face hadn't been seen since his own children were that small.

As he passed the great garden next to the palace, he saw one of his twin sons in a tree.

"Elrohir! I've found him. Come down from there."

The prince of Rivendell jumped from the tree and ran to embrace both Legolas and his father. "Oh, thank the Valar. He's safe."

Elrond leaned into the embrace, smoothing his son's hair in a comforting gesture. His position was uncomfortable, supporting Legolas with one arm and holding his rather tall son up with the other, but he was content.

Elladan came suddenly to his other side and wriggled under his father's arm. "I saw you from a balcony. Is he alright?"

"He's fine. He exhausted himself down in the archives, crying his little eyes out." Elrond re-adjusted the elfling in his arms, and the twins, realizing that he was probably supporting nearly twice his own weight, released him.

"Father, if you wish to go back to your council we will put Legolas to bed."

Nodding, Elrond extracted Legolas from his robes. Or, at least, he tried to. As Elladan attempted to pull him away, Legolas wailed and anchored himself to the closest part of his savior - the hair.

"Ai ai ai! My HAIR! That HURTS!" He grabbed at the little hands in his hair, trying to get them to release without hurting either himself or the young prince. "Let go, it's alright, let go. Elladan won't take you away."

Large blue eyes peered at Elrond, aware and awake for the first time since Legolas had been found.

"You may stay with me while I meet with the visiting dwarves, if you wish. But you must stop pulling my hair."

The little boy smiled brightly and relaxed his hold. Rolling his eyes at his sons, who were grinning at his softness, Elrond smoothed his hair down.

"I think you have a new friend, father."

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"Lord Elrond! We did not know you had such a young jewel of a child in your house. Had we known, we would have brought pearls and sapphires to shower him with-"

"Enough, enough, my dear dwarf. He is not mine, though it seems that he has adopted me. His name is Legolas, he is Thranduil's son."

Legolas perked up at the sound of his name. He turned around in Elrond's arms to look at the dwarves. Elrond smiled down at him and began the conference.

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Hours later, Elrond was coaxing the young elf awake. The meeting had run long past Legolas's bedtime, and it was now closer to that of Elrond himself. "Come, little Mirkwood. We must return you to your father."

"Nay." Elrond looked up to see Glorfindel. "Thranduil is asleep, or at least he is locked in his room wishing to be left alone."

Elrond tried not to smile. "Well, then. It has been a long time since I have put a child to bed, my friend. I would do so gladly."

"And I would join you gladly as well, Elrond."

Elrond stood and sat the child on his hip, leading Glorfindel down the halls to the guest rooms at a lazy pace.

Legolas must have awoken halfway there, for when Elrond looked over his shoulder to see his friend, he found Glorfindel making strange faces at his back. Glorfindel grinned brazenly when the child let go a peal of laughter.

"Really, Glorfindel. It's a wonder all Mirkwood elves don't think us buffoons." The arch of a rather sarcastic eyebrow was all the reply he got. They continued on.

When they finally reached a suitable guest room, Elrond entered with more than a little regret. He would miss the quiet giggling next to his ear on the walk back to his own chambers.

"Certainly you wont leave him here alone all night?"

"No, Glorfindel. I will stay until he falls asleep, and then send for his nanny. She should be resting in a nearby room, if I'm not mistaken." Elrond lowered the sleeping boy onto the bed and tucked him in. He had to stretch himself out on his side on the bed, because the boy again refused to loosen his hands from Elrond's hair.

Glorfindel smoothed the sheets and placed a kiss on the prince's forehead before he moved to the door. "I must be off to bother Erestor. Good night, little prince. Sleep well." A flash of teeth in a grin, and he was gone.

Elrond lay next to the prince for a very short while before his eyes closed in child's sleep. He smiled indulgently as he extracted himself from the bed and the child.

The fingers clutching his robe loosened easily enough, but the hand wrapped in black silk hair was another matter. Every little tug was painful, and the fingers were so wrapped up that Elrond would need to wake the child or surrender a rather large lock of hair to be free of the hold.

"Oh, little elf, what am I to do with you?"

He fell back onto the bed, the long day weighing so heavily on him that he really didn't care where he slept. Within a few short minutes, he was as sound asleep at the youngster at his side.


End file.
